


Wrath of Winter

by bornonthewrongside



Category: A Song of Ice and Fire - George R. R. Martin
Genre: Additional Warnings Apply, Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Angst, F/M, Sexual Violence, Slow Build, Violence, Winter
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2014-10-16
Updated: 2015-06-11
Packaged: 2018-02-21 09:11:16
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 12
Words: 14,325
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2462720
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/bornonthewrongside/pseuds/bornonthewrongside
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
      <p>TRIGGER WARNING depictions of non-consensual acts in beginning and end. this chapter should be the extent of this, but there will be flashbacks.</p>
<p>this is just a little snippet start of a long fic i want to keep working on, and i don't know how well it will work. but here goes. </p>
<p>as always comment what you think// what i can improve upon!</p>
    </blockquote>





	1. The Shrouded Moon

**Author's Note:**

> TRIGGER WARNING depictions of non-consensual acts in beginning and end. this chapter should be the extent of this, but there will be flashbacks.
> 
> this is just a little snippet start of a long fic i want to keep working on, and i don't know how well it will work. but here goes. 
> 
> as always comment what you think// what i can improve upon!

“Shh…” he whispered into her ear. “It won’t hurt; you’ll like it, maybe even love it.”

“Stop… Please…” she whimpered again, her voice is barely audible.

His hands began to rub the length of her legs, up to her hips, then past her waist. She went to grab them and push them away, but his hands seized hers and crushed them.

“I said stop,” she said with a small voice of courage. “You can’t-“ he cut her off with a slight

connection of the back of his hand to her cheek. The taste blood filled her taste buds.

“And I said to keep your mouth shut.” Another slap. His lips assaulted hers, his tongue probing her lips, prying them open.

A small tear escaped her eye.

 

Hands began to roam across her body, bruising along the way, but for a split second he hesitated, and all it took was a moment to react. She bit down on his tongue and brought her knee to the inverted ‘v’ between his legs. He doubled over in pain instantaneously.

 

She ran, and started to jump over the couch, but he grabbed her ankle in a vain attempt to stop her. Her temple hit the corner of the coffee table, and she landed on her arm with a sickening crunch sound. A seed of pain soon blossomed throughout her whole body. Blood trickled down her face, and the pain stayed constant. She quickly made her way to the door, losing her footing multiple times.

 

The door was locked, and she fumbled with it for the longest five seconds of her life. She forced it open and a gust of frozen wind blew her way. Ignoring her naked feet, ripped skirt, and sleeveless arms, she forced herself into the blank destitute of snow and wind never looking back.

***

The trees passed her in a white and brown blur as she ran, as fast and as hard as she could from that house. The pads of her feet were torn open, and she lost feeling in her hands, but still she did not stop. The snow continued on relentlessly as the wind tore at her skirt. As the moon rose higher in the black sky, the cold air began to entrap her lungs.

She kept falling and more effort was needed each time to get back up. Her breath had turned ragged and uneven. When she finally took the chance to rest, the rough bark scratched at her numbing arms and snagged at her long unruly hair. The blood that had trickled down her face left a copper taste in her mouth, and the pain in her right arm had changed to a dull throbbing. Her eyelids threatened to close, but she couldn't let that happen. The sounds of muddled shouting caused her body to snap to attention. Ignoring her throbbing pain, she continued to run.

Thrashing and crashing sounded out throughout the lonely forest as she struggled to get her numbed feet to move. Bare branches hit her face and body like a whip as she raced away from the footsteps. The moon was shrouded by dense clouds, and she could no longer see where she was going. She tripped over a fallen trunk, and her ankle turned at a painful. She bit her lip to keep from crying out. She crawled to a nearby tree.

“I know you’re out here bitch!” Came his drunken slur much closer than what he was before.

A single tear froze against her cheek. The moon’s light slowly crept back into the midnight forest. The crunching of leaves and the breaking of branches sounded that he was near. His outline came into her periphery, and she could no longer breathe.

“You think you can survive out here? You’ll die if you don’t come with me bitch!” He shouted into the air. She sank even lower towards the ground. _Please no, please gods. No_.

She dared another glance at him. A twig snapped as she shifted, and he was on her like a wolf on its kill. Her body couldn't respond fast enough to escape his forceful grasp. He held onto her twisted ankle with a violent grip; she choked out a broken scream, “Please, no, don’t do this. Stop. Please.”

She was stretched out on her stomach, struggling with the last of her strength against him. It was no use, he easily flipped her over. He breathed in her deep red hair, and licked her earlobe, “Oh Sansa Stark, how clever you think you are. With your fire of hair, perfect teats,” to emphasize his point he grabbed them, “your Tully blue eyes. How I wish I did this to your mother. She would have liked it; just like you will.”

Sansa screamed against mouth, when a light flashed across the treeline stopped her short. “Who the bloody fuck is on my property?”

 


	2. Stranger Set Me Free

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> TRIGGER WARNING again for violence and attempt at sexual assualt.

Sansa’s strength was nonexistent. Intense shivering raked throughout her whole body. Every one of her limbs had lost feeling; her fingers and toes were frozen stiff. Petyr’s weight upon her cut off almost all of her oxygen. She was only able to take quick and shallow breaths. Her head was so light’ she could no longer tell which way was up or down. He dragged her away from the voice that boomed in the woods. He pushed her almost lifeless body against a thick tree. His body was pressed hard against hers. Sansa couldn’t scream anymore; Petyr slapped her again and again until she stopped trying.

The flashlight still danced along the trees, and the heavy footsteps sounded closer with each passing second. They were not loud and crashing like Petyr’s were, but were light, and precisely placed to make the least amount of noise possible. Petyr breathed deeply into Sansa’s ear creating a moisture deep in her eardrum. She could smell the stench of the bourbon he drank down earlier in the evening. Silent tears froze against her cheeks,   _Stranger please set me free. Maiden let me be pure and untainted. Mother have mercy upon me. Father judge me fairly in the next life._

“Stop your fucking whimpering.” Petyr spit into her ear. He tightened his grip on her neck, “Or I’ll end your pretty little life.”

Sansa choked on a sob as his glove-claddened hand covered her mouth, cutting off the rest of her oxygen. The footsteps stopped suddenly, and Petyr pressed even harder down on Sansa, as if they would disappear in the shadows. When a bright flash of light fell on her face, she tried to scream, but no sound could come out. White spots danced across her periphery before Petyr raised his arm once again, and the world went black once again.

*******

Pain was the first thing Sansa thought of as she tried to open her eyes. Her eyelids refused to open all the way, she could barely open them to a slight slit. Everything was blurry, but the only colors she could see were green and blue. Both of her legs refused to move, and her right arm was as heavy as lead.

A choked sound came from her throat as she began to remember scraps of what happened the night before; Petyr invited her over and some other’s over for a small ‘rendezvous’ as he called it. He needed someone to stop by the store with him, and she saw no harm in it.  He then brought the two of them to his cabin, but no one else came. It was over a two and half drive. He drank bourbon after bourbon. He played his music low, and he told her how beautiful she was.   _Oh gods._

_He tried… oh gods, he tried._ Sansa felt tears form on her already swollen eyes. I almost died. She could still feel the freezing wind bite at her face, and the whips of the tree branches as she raced as far away as possible. He still found her. He placed his rotten mouth against hers. _He tried to kill me._

A jolt went through Sansa as she realized she had no idea where she was. There was someone else in the woods. The man with the light, and the booming voice. His voice was call of the Father himself. _Am I still at Petyr’s? Where am I?_

Choked, gurgling sounds came from her throat as she tried to call for help. With her left hand, she rubbed away some of the pus that smeared her eyes shut.Though a searing pain went throughout her whole abdomen, Sansa still fought her way to a sitting position.

With clearer eyes, she saw a plain bedroom with pale green walls with dark blue trim. A small wooden rocking chair sat in one corner, a small window with black curtains laid on the right of the bed, and a small mirror was positioned above a rickety old dresser to the left of the bed. Stainless white carpet lined the whole floor, and a slightly ajar heavy wooden door was positioned in front the bed.

Sansa’s mind couldn’t concentrate on anything besides getting out of here. Very slowly she swung her legs to the side of the bed. When she tried to stand her legs crumpled, and she screamed out in pain. Coughing fits took over her lungs. She was sprawled across the white carpet when a tall figure pushed open the creaking door.

Everything Sansa saw had red in it; air could not get into her lungs. She could not focus on figure that took the steps to her, and picked her up with delicate precision and laid her on her side on the bed. Slowly, air came through easier, and the coughing receded.

The man stood by the side of the bed, looking at Sansa with curiosity. Without a word, he turned and left.

“Wait…” Sansa said, her voice sounding as if she swallowed gravel.

As Sansa looked down, she noticed her legs were black and blue. Her ankles were swollen to double their normal size. Her arms had bruises and scratches. One bruise looked like a handprint, about the size of Petyr’s. Her fingernails were almost gone, and dried blood caked her hands. Cautiously, Sansa prodded her fingers against her cheekbones, and pain blossomed across her face.

“Girl,” a soft deep voice sounded from the doorway. A man, well over six feet tall, stood with a tray with a pot of hot water, a cup, and a bowl. Sansa looked at him with fear in her eyes. He stepped into the doorway, and made his way to the bed, and set the tray on the nightstand. He placed his hands on Sansa’s shoulders, and had her lying on her back. Sansa couldn’t breathe. The man eventually put into a sitting position. “Drink this,” and placed the cup in her good hand.

“What… Who…” She whispered almost silently.

“Drink the bloody tea first, then I’ll explain.” His grey eyes gave no room for compromise. He stood by the side of the bed, waiting for her drink She looked up at him as she drank, but she couldn’t focus on him. When she finished it, he took it, and looked back at her.

“What’s going on?” She asked, her throat ached less from the tea.

‘What do you remember?” He asked gruffly. When she tried to readjust herself, he stopped her, “Don’t. You have at least five broken bones. I’m having Elder Brother come in later to look at you.”

“Elder Brother? Where am I?” Panic shot into Sansa’s quiet voice.

“I found you in the woods two nights ago. You were with a man, not willingly, I’m guessing. You had the beginning stages of hypothermia. What do you remember?”

“He tried to kill me. I was running from him, he tried to rape me. He found me, and he tried to take me back. There was a light before he hit me the last time,” Sansa looked at her hands as she spoke.

“You found your way onto my property.” Rustling and barks came from down the hall. “You should rest again. I’m sure that’s Elder Brother, he will want to talk to you.” With that, the man stood to leave.

“Wait,” Sansa whispered, “What’s your name?”

**  
He looked at her intensely before answering,“Sandor Clegane.” He shut the door behind him.**


	3. She's Not Staying Here

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> ayyyyyye. so just wanted to get this quick one out tonight.   
> of course let me know what you lovelies think! 
> 
> personally, not my best, but let's be real. we don't know where this is going.

Sandor trudged out into the hallway, and was instantly surrounded by a small herd of dogs, all five of them. He quickly shut the door behind him, trying not to disturb the little bird even more so. The dogs seemed to have different ideas, they kept jumping, yipping, and barking at every slight movement he made. “Shh! You damned mutts. You’ll scare the little bird.” He whispered feverishly.  Sansa,  he thought,  seems like a bird’s name.

 

He stood outside by her door for a moment, and listened. He heard soft moans of pain every time she tried to move.  What the fuck did I do? There was no way in the seven hells that she was older than twenty-one; her body seemed so small and light in the freezing night. She wasn’t even shivering by the time he wrapped his coat around her fragile shoulders. Her lips turned a painful shade of purple that matched the bruising around her eyes. 

 

The doorbell chimed again, and in his dirty old jeans and thick woolen socks, he shuffled against the hardwood floor, careful not to run any of the damned dogs over. Light knocking insisted at the door.  Sandor recognized the knocks of the one man he could trust: Elder Brother. When he opened the door, the tall old man was wrapped in scarves and jackets. 

 

“Ah, Sandor. How nice of you to let me in. It was starting to get a bit cold out there; they say its the coldest week of the decade.” He stripped off his gloves, and gave each dog a pat on his head. After unwrapping his scarf, he gave Sandor a strong hug, and hung his coat on the hook.

 

“Blast the fucking gods. Everyday is colder than before, last night was fucking unbelievable, it was almost minus fifty.” Sandor made his way to the kitchen, knowing that Elder Brother was following him. 

 

“Yes, last night, it was mighty cold indeed. How is the girl? You said very little on the phone, and what happened of this man? You didn’t revert back to your old ways, I hope.” Elder Brother sat down at the small kitchen table, and rubbed a veiny hand across his furrowed brow. 

 

Taking in a deep breath, Sandor cast his grey eyes up to the ceiling. “I didn’t kill him if that’s what you’re asking. He’s one of the Lannister’s pets though. Baelish. One of the worst, if you ask me.” 

 

“What happened then Sandor? If you didn’t kill him, what did you do?” Elder Brother looked gravely at his old friend. 

 

“The girl, Sansa, she was tortured, hunted,  it seemed like. No shoes, no sleeves, not even damned pants. A tattered dress, that’s all. She could barely even breathe; I saw red. I let him run for a while, but now he’s in the cellar. The storm shelter over by the wood piles. He could be useful for finding out what the Lannisters know so far.” Sandor rested his hips against the counter, and dragged his calloused hands through his matted, tangled hair.

 

“He’s in the cellar?” Elder Brother emphasized each word clearly. 

 

“That’s what I said,” Sandor rubbed the length of his own arm, and looked at Elder Brother.

 

“Oh Sandor,” he stood, and grabbed Sandor’s face in his hands, “What in the name of the seven are doing? You are already in so much danger. If the Lannisters know you are this close, they will kill you. They want you gone, Cersei more than anyone. After what you did to Joffrey, they won’t stop looking for you.” 

 

Sandor ripped his head away from Elder Brother, “You don’t think I’m aware they want me dead? They’re all fucking crazy; they run this fucking place. I am trapped, Brother. I am a sitting duck, and now I have this fucking girl up in my bedroom, broken.” 

 

“This is the best place right now Sandor. They aren’t expecting you to be so close; they’re searching everywhere but here. I am doing my best to make sure you are safe. I’m nothing but an old man, but I am trying. After you can to me after what happened to Joffrey, I couldn’t let you burn.”

 

“Stop with the fucking sappy shit, Brother. I’m fucking done with that shit; I just want to  leave. ” He breathed in a shaky breath, “What are you going to do about the girl?” 

 

“What do you mean, Sandor?” Elder Brother look quizzically at Sandor. 

 

“Well, she’s not staying here.” 

 

“And just where do you expect me to bring her?” Elder Brother crossed his arms.

  
“I-” He cut off when he heard the screech of a bird from down the hall. 


	4. I Want to Go Home

Sansa’s body burned with pain as she tried once again to stand. Everything in her body burned; bruises changed the color of her skin. She used to have delicate porcelain skin; now she saw deep blue, and purple with veins creating a dance of lines across her skin. Her right arm was completely swollen, and when she managed to pull the blanket from her legs, she could see her right ankle twisted to an odd angle. Her thighs were deeply bruised, and her left leg could be moved without intense pain.

 

But still, Sansa tried to stand. She _needed_ answers, and Sandor was not giving them to her. Despite, the agony that spread throughout, she stood. But she couldn’t take it silently. A scream pierced the silence of the room. Sansa crashed against the ground once more. She used her arms to break her fall, and a brand new pain spread in her right arm.

 

Dogs’ footsteps sounded from the hall, and howling immediately followed. Sansa’s breath came in shallow and quickened when two tall men raced in. The bigger of the two, Sandor, lifted her gently as possible. Still Sansa whimpered in pain.

 

As Sandor laid her on the bed, the old man slid his wrinkled hand along Sansa’s left leg. When he reacked her shin, she cried out in pain.

 

“Oh, my dear, what happened to you?” he muttered quietly, and turned his attention to her other leg. “Goodness, what did you go through?”

 

“I ran a really long time,” Sansa whispered as her eyelids drooped. “It was cold. He followed me. So much running. I hit my…” she lifted to her left hand up to her temple, “this. Against a coffee table.”

 

She looked up at Sandor, “My head hurts, did you do this? Who is this?”

 

“She has brain damage. She can’t stay here,” Sandor snapped at the old man.

 

“My name is Elder Brother,” the old man kindly stated, ignoring Sandor. He pressed his fingers against Sansa’s temple, and she hissed in pain. “Just a small cut. This looks to be your least severe injury. Should clear up without a scar once I stitch it up.”

 

“I can’t see out of my eye.” Sansa whispered.

 

“It’s all that puss; did that man hit you? The one who chased you through the woods?” Elder Brother whispered as well, continuing to look at her arms.

 

“More than once. I’m all right. I can go home. I need to go home. Please, let me go home.” Tears poured out of her eyes as she tried to keep a strong face.

 

“Sandor, go grab my bag, and get a bowl of warm water with some rags.” He turned to Sandor and smiled. “Sansa, that’s your name?”

 

She nodded slowly, “Why am I not in a hospital?”

 

Elder Brother hesitated, and then shook his head, “That’s a twisted tree we better not get jumbled in. I can splint your left leg - that one is broken. Your right ankle is sprained, not too badly so that should heal faster, but you won’t be walking soon. Your right arm seems to be fine, minus some bruising. Your left arm is broken however, that’s another splint, and the wrist is sprained.”

 

Sandor walked back in, and silently set the bowl and Elder Brother’s leg on the night stand. “Is she going to be okay?”

 

Sansa didn’t even look at him, just looked at her hands. Tear drops landed silently onto them, “I want to go home. I need to be home.”

 

Elder Brother stood, and pulled Sandor closer to the door, “It’s not good. Not in the least. The only part she got lucky in was not getting severe hypothermia. How that happened, the seven know. She has one or two broken ribs, not to mention her limbs. Gods, she seems so innocent. She needs strict bed rest for the next two and a half months- at least.”

 

“Three? Three months? I can’t do this. This is not my job-” Sandor whispered harshly to Elder Brother.

 

“It is now. You are going to do what I say, Sandor. The pain medication I’m going to give her will make her drowsy, and for the most part make her sleep about twenty hours a day. I’m asking you to feed her, and make sure she remains alive.”

 

“I’m not some nurse. I’m not giving her sponge bath, and not waiting on her hand and foot. Why can’t you just bring to a hospital? It would be the smart thing to do.”

 

“I can’t bring her to a hospital. The Lannisters are already on a look out for… If she is who, I think she is, then she would be dead within an  hour at a hospital.”

 

“Her name is Sansa. Who would she be? She got drunk with an older man, he tried raping -” He cut off when Elder Brother’s hand connected with the back of his head. He looked at Sansa, who was just staring at the wall. Her face was completely devoid of emotion.

 

“Sansa,” Elder Brother walked closer to her, “What is your last name?”

 

She breathed in, and winced, “Stark.”

 

“Thank you miss Stark.” Elder Brother turned back to Sandor, “Have you watched the news lately Sandor?”

 

“Eddard Stark, his wife, and their son, Robb were just murdered. The rest of their children are missing.” Sandor whispered.

 

“Petyr Baelish was told to get Sansa Stark for Joffrey. He liked how she looks. She _is not_ going anywhere near a hospital right now.”

 

Sandor swallowed a lump in his throat, “And she happened onto this property? This makes even more dangerous to keep her here. Elder, I don’t like this. I can’t keep her alive, I only know how to kill. I _can’t_ do this.”

 

“You can and you will. Because I told you to. And remember you owe me. Also, do not tell her about her family, I highly doubt she knows about it right now.”

 

“Senator Stark, she’s going to overhear on the news.” Sandor raked a hand on his face, and breathed in once again, “Joffrey wants her? Even after what I did to him?”

 

Elder Brother looked towards the ceiling, and mumbled a prayer to the seven, “You _castrated_ the boy. You cut of his manhood, Sandor.”

 

“He deserved it, and you know it. He raped three girls, and murdered them.”

  
“You cut off an ear, as well. Sandor, he is still murdering young girls; torturing them for his pleasure.” He shook his head, and whispered another prayer. “I need to help Miss Stark, I’ll give you her pain medication. Remember, you are in charge of keeping her alive.” 


	5. Will You Sit with Me?

After Elder Brother left, Sandor sat outside Sansa’s door, listening intently. Elder Brother left him with three bottles of prescription drugs, and gave him strict instructions. He said Sansa would be sleeping most of the time, but that didn’t help Sandor with the anxiety building up in his chest. He was in charge of keeping her alive; he never had to do this before. He always killed people. That’s what he could do, the Lannisters would give him a name, and he would kill them. It was simple.

After a half hour of sitting outside of her door, Sandor stood, and looked into the bedroom. He saw her sleeping stiffly on her back. She had deep breaths, but pain still etched across her face. Elder Brother stitched up her temple, and splinted her leg and arm. She looked stuck, and he guess she was. She wasn’t allowed to walk for at least three months.

Silently he backed out of the room, and shut the door. He made his way back to the kitchen to pour himself a scotch. He downed the rich amber liquid in a single gulp, and looked at the small square window. Snow was beginning to fall once again in thick flakes. The trees danced against the strong wind. _When did I check on the rat?_ Sandor thought to himself.

“Fuck,” turning to grab two slices of bread, and a bottle of water, Sandor grabbed his coat, and pulled on his boots.

The dogs followed him to the door, and they all filed out as he held the door open for them. The smallest one, a small Jack Russell Terrier named Bandit, yipped at Sandor, and grabbed his tug-of-war rope. Sandor half heartedly threw it to the edge of the tree line, and made his way towards the storm cellar.

The wind bit at his good cheek and whipped his tousled hair across his forehead. He grabbed his keys from his jacket pocket, and struggled with the rusting lock. He heard a soft click, and grabbed the lock, and opened the heavy metal door. A harsh smell of human urine and feces filled his nose. Reaching for the light, Sandor heard Petyr Baelish say something through his gag.

When the light illuminated the small cellar, Sandor saw Petyr in the corner with a wild look in his eyes. His greying hair turned greasy and snarled. He was wearing khaki slacks and a nice winter coat. Sandor went over to him, and dropped the bread and water on the grounded in front of him. Slowly, he removed the gag from his mouth.

“You son of a bitch!” was the first thing he said, and Sandor just stood back up, and stepped back. “You son of a whore. When they find out what you did, they will _kill_ you.”

“They don’t know where I am.” Sandor said calmly.

“They will, they will know.” Petyr said through clenched teeth.

“And just how will they know, Baelish? Are you going to tell them? Are you going to just get out of here and walk up to the Lannisters? Let them know you failed to get Sansa Stark?”

Baelish’s face went blank, “Where is that bitch? Did you kill her? Is she frozen in the middle of the woods somewhere?” When Sandor stayed silent, Baelish’s jaw clenched and the veins started to poke through his forehead, “Tell me!”

“She’s dead, you killed her. After you hunted her through the woods like some sort of animal.”

Ravenous laughter erupted from Baelish, “Like an animal? The only animal here is you, Clegane. You’re nothing but a pathetic dog who needs orders. I can’t wait to see the look on Cersei’s face when I tell her where you are.”

It was Sandor’s turn to laugh, “How do you expect to do that with two broken legs, two cracked ribs, and a broken arm?”

The smug smile slowly faded from Baelish’s lips, “I don’t have any of those injuries.”

Sandor’s mouth quirked to one side, “You will.”

In under a minute Petyr Baelish was crying out in immense pain. Sandor had taken one of his hammers hanging the back wall of the cellar, and pounded it against Baelish’s legs. When he heard the cracks, he stepped back and watch the pathetic man squirm on the ground. With a final swing against his temple, Baelish stopped moving.

_This is what I know what to do_ , Sandor thought to himself frowning, only destroying, _not saving_. Without looking back, Sandor climbed up the stairs, and slammed the heavy door back into place.

The two largest dogs sauntered up to him with their tails wagging. One a husky, Lucian, and the other a German Shepard, Lea. Both them had a taken a liking to him the moment Elder Brother dumped him into this hell hole. They both nuzzled against his sides, and immediately started chasing each other once again.

As the sky continued to get darker Sandor quickly checked the wood burner and the propane tank before making his way inside. “Dogs,” he called once, and the five canines immediately followed.

He checked the time on the stove and immediately started cursing, “Fuck me bloody.” He feverishly started heating soup from a can, and checked in on Sansa.

Her sleeping figure had not moved an inch, but still looked in pain. He went back to the damned soup, where the dogs believed that would get some. Getting in his way every possible second, Sandor starting cursing them as well. Every _damn_ time he used the stove. _Fucking vultures_ , he thought to himself.

After ten minutes of watching the soup slowly increase in temperature, Sandor walked the tray of soup and crackers to Sansa’s room. The noise of the door opening roused Sansa to open her swollen eyes.

“Hi,” she whispered quietly. “How long have I been sleeping?”

Sandor awkwardly cleared his throat, “About four hours, not nearly enough. I made some soup. Can you sit up on your own or do you need help?”

Sansa used her one good arm to try to get leverage to get to a sitting position, but it was no use. Tears started coming into her eyes.

“Are you in pain?” Sandor asked as her as he placed to two hands under her armpits and effortlessly lifted her up to a sitting position.

“Almost all of my limbs are broken, and I have two cracked ribs. Yes, I am in pain.” Sansa retorted. Sandor ignored her, and placed the tray on her lap.

“If I leave the pain pill with you, will you take it or do I have force it down your throat?”

“I can take it.” Sansa looked at the two pills he placed next to the bowl of soup. When Sandor moved to the door Sansa made a small noise, “Will you sit with me?”

“What?”

“I know you don’t want me here;  I heard you talking with Elder Brother. I don’t want to be here either. Would you please just sit with me? It gets lonely being here by myself.” Sansa looked back down at her hands.

Without saying anything, Sandor walked out the door. Sansa looked crestfallen, and played with the spoon awkwardly with her left hand.

A scraping noise came from the hallway, and still silent, Sandor dragged in a heavy rocking chair. When it was positioned next to the bed, Sandor grabbed a book from the dresser across from the bed.

“Don’t expect me to talk.”

**  
“Okay,” Sansa said with a small smile.**


	6. Why Are You So Hateful?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> i don't really know what happened this chapter, but something did. 
> 
> let me know what you think!

The next seven weeks passed in a vague routine. Sandor would make Sansa two meals a day, and she would sleep at least 18 hours a day. Elder Brother visited twice a week, and checked up on Sansa. He said her recovery was coming along better than he would have ever expected. The bruises slowly lightened on her skin, and the swelling in her eyes decreased within the first month. The broken ribs slowly fused back together again, and her breathing came easier and deeper.

Everyday Sansa would be able to stay up just little bit longer, and would be able to eat a little bit more. Everyday Sandor just sat in her room while she ate, just reading or staring at the walls. They rarely ever talked, she just ate and took her pills. She seemed too scared to start any sort of conversation with him; not that he wanted to converse with her. He was being forced to babysit her, he did not to have to or want to have a relationship with her.

Still, there was something about Sansa that made Sandor feel inclined to make sure she was alright every moment of everyday. She smiled at him. She thanked him. No one’s ever done that. She never complained. She never cried in front of him, except when the pain became too much for her to take.

There was an instance after the third week of Sansa being in the house with Sandor. Sandor  had been sitting in his bedroom after hours of sleeplessness. Through the heavy wood of his door, Sandor had heard muffled sobs coming from across the hall, Sansa’s bedroom. He didn’t know why she was crying, and after twenty minutes of listening to her sobs, Sandor couldn’t handle it any longer. He walked across the hall, and into her room to see her curled in a ball on the floor next to her bed.

Ever so slightly, Sandor had placed a hand on her shoulder. Sansa jumped at the contact, and she quickly tried to hold back her sobs. As she struggled to a sitting position, she began apologizing profusely.

“You don’t have to be sorry girl,” Sandor whispered, and winced as she put pressure on her broken leg. “Let me help you, little bird.”

“I want to go home,” she whispered as she relaxed in his strong arms.

“I know.”

“Let me go home,” she said in a defeated tone, as if she already knew the answer.

“You know I can’t do that little bird,” Sandor said as he draped a finger down her hair. When she looked at it, he quickly pulled back. “I’ll bring you your pill, it’ll help you sleep.”

“You don’t want to be here either do you?” Sansa whispered so softly he almost didn’t hear her.

“Not in the least, little bird.” Sandor said before he left the room.

That night was the only snippet of conversation they had shared with each other. Sandor had already been in this damned house for over six months, he had gotten used to not talking. He created a routine, and now there was not only one addition but two. Damned Petyr Baelish.

Three times a week Sandor made his way to the storm cellar to see Petyr Baelish not recovering as well as Sansa. The man had caked feces across his legs, and he was becoming malnourished with each passing day. Sandor could blatantly see infections growing on his temple, arm, and one of his legs. He felt absolutely no sympathy for this pathetic excuse for a man lying on the storm cellar floor.

Every time Sandor checked in on Petyr, the man asked about Sansa, even though he thought she was dead. He asked if Sandor had taken Sansa before she died. If Sandor was the one who killed her. The man continued to grow on Sandor’s nerves until he placed the gag back on him.

The days continued to grow darker and colder. Snow continued to fall harder and faster every day. Sandor was just a little bit thankful he was forced to stay on this property, because driving in this shitstorm would be like living in hell. But then again, Sandor did always prefer the cold to the hot.

Laughter pulled Sandor out of thought as he stared out the living room window. With a curious expression Sandor walked quietly as he could across the squeaky hardwood floor. Sansa’s sweet laughter continued to flow from the slightly opened door. A slight yip also joined with her laughter, and Sandor opened the door immediately.

“Get out of here, you little shit,” Sandor barked at Bandit, the smallest dog. There were two more dogs lying on the floor, that immediately filed out of the room. Bandit sat on the edge of the bed, wagging his tail so hard it might fall off.

Sansa’s face turned red, in embarrassment and in effort not to start laughing again. “I’m sorry, it’s just Bandit nudged the door open, and started licking my face. It reminded me of home. I’m sorry.”

“No, it’s all right.” Sandor awkwardly stood by the door, and was about to leave when Sansa started a cacophony of coughing, “Are you alright?”

In between coughs Sansa nodded, “Yeah… I’m… fine…” Her face grew so red it started to match her hair.

Sandor grabbed the glass of water sitting on the nightstand and tried getting her to drink it, but she couldn’t keep her hand steady. Sandor set the glass back down, and got onto the bed behind her. Pushing her forward, Sandor positioned Sansa in between his legs, and rested her back against his torso.

“Breathe… shhh. Inhale as deeply as you can. Good,” Sandor reached for the glass again, and lifted it to her lips, “Nice, drink all of it.”

As Sansa drank the water, he began to lazily rubbed his hands down the length of her arms. She pressed against him as she started to breathe in deeper. “You’re pretty good at this.”

“Good at what?” He quirked his good eyebrow at her.

“Saving a damsel in distress, staying calm in a pretty scary situation.” She smiled at him as she played with the glass in her hands.

“Thank you, I guess” Sandor stiffened, and halted the rubbing of her arms.

“May I ask you a question?” Sansa abandoned the glass in her hands in favor with the ends of her greasy hair.

“Depends on the question,” he breathed out, intensely uncomfortable with their position. _How the fuck did this happen?_

“What happened to Petyr? Please tell me, I need to know.”

“Who?”

“Petyr… Baelish. He was the man, the man… on that night…” Sansa whispered, her voicing fading with each passing word.

“Oh, him…” Sandor breathed in, “He looked in rough shape that night, I highly doubt he’s still running around like the scum he was.” Not lying, just not the whole truth.

“I, I never thanked you.” Sansa looked up at him, “Thank you, ser, you were so brave.”

“A dog doesn’t need courage to chase off rats,” Sandor snarled, and with great haste stood back up.

“No, wait, I’m sorry.” Sansa called from the bed, and as he yanked on the door she said, “Sandor! You cannot walked away from an invalid. Would you please talk to me?”

The rustling of dogs could be heard just outside the door. Sandor looked back at her, “What?”

“Do you know how lonely it is here? In this specific bedroom? I’ve memorized how many tiles line the baseboards. It’s 156, if you’re interested. I have nothing to do all day-”

“Elder Brother said you just need to rest. That’s what he told me to make sure-”

“No, he is the only morsel of human contact I get after almost two months of being here. Two months, Sandor. At least you can walk around, and do something. I have sit in here, day after day.” Sansa sucked in her breath, tears already brimming around her eyes. “I know you don’t want me here. So why don’t you let me go home? Or at the very least let me call my father, my mother, my brother, or my sister? I need to talk to them.”

Sandor looked at her shaking hands, “I can’t let you do that. I’m sorry, Sansa, but things are muddled right now. You can’t talk to your parents right now.”

As he turned again to leave, he heard the rustling of sheets. As he looked over his shoulder he saw her limping over to him, “ _Why_ are you so hateful?”

“You need to be in bed,” as Sandor looked over her legs he saw that she didn’t have the splints on anymore, “What happened to the splints?”

“Elder took them off of me three days ago. He said to try walking. Now answer me, _why are you so hateful?_ ” Her legs started shaking under her weight.

“You’ll understand at a later time.” As he opened his mouth to speak again, Sansa buckled. Her soft hands grasped his shoulders, and he wrapped his big hands around her waist. “Whoa there, little bird.”

When she didn’t anything, he grasped her chin and brought her face up to his. He saw tears sliding down her cheeks effortlessly, and her jaw clenched.

“I… I just want to go home.”

“I know, little bird, I know.” Sandor rubbed a hand across her back as he walked with her to the bed.

“Why did you help me? How did you know I was out there?”

“It wasn’t so much you, as the drunk man behind you. You were quiet, most likely because you’re lighter, and because he was drunk.”

“Petyr, I knew him. He was my mother’s best friend. I knew him for over fifteen years. I never would have thought that he would try to…” She trailed off.

“You knew him? You know Petyr Baelish?” Sandor asked.

“Of course, or I thought I did. My father hates him. For good reasons I guess.” Sansa grunted as she positioned herself against the pillows.

“Sansa,” Sandor felt a deep need to tell her. He needed to, she was so pure, and so innocent. “I- Do you want to go eat dinner in the kitchen today?”

_Not yet,_ a voice in his mind whispered. _Soon, but not today._

 


	7. With the Sudden Death

Though her steps were insecure and wobbly, Sansa walked at almost every moment possible. She walked from chair to chair in the kitchen. She walked from window to window in the living room. She walked around her bedroom, and she even tried to walk down the stairs. Though she missed a step and tumble down to the foyer, she never discouraged herself. 

 

Sandor always kept a close eye on her. With every missed step and little trip, his entire body tightened with fear, and his heart stopped. He began to notice when she started pushing herself too hard, though she denied it all she could, he noticed. He started to pick up on her everyday mannerisms, the way she gripped her fork with her left hand but wrote with her right, and how she stuck her tongue out when immersed herself deep in thought. She had a tendency to mouth the words she thinks before she actually speaks, and her eyes gave away her every emotion.

 

“Sandor, look they’re some birds outside on the tree branch,” Sansa called from her perch by the window. 

 

“I’ve seen birds before,” Sandor said absent mindedly, not bothering to look up from the newspaper he was reading. 

 

“Would you just come look?” Sansa urged him.

 

Heaving an over dramatic sigh, Sandor stood from the kitchen table and lumbered over to the window. He looked out the window to see two stupid birds nuzzled against each other. “Yes. I see them. Adorable.” He turned to leave. 

 

“No, look at them. Look at how dependent they are of each other. That darker one, it’s taking the cold away from the smaller brighter one, by wrapping its wing around its body. Do you not see how sweet that is?” Sansa looked up at him, her blue eyes wide, and her lips pursed just slightly. 

 

“Nope.” Sandor turned and walked back to the table. An angry noise sounded from Sansa. 

 

“You are impossible. Completely impossible. That is sweet. That is adorable. That is lovely. That is  love. ” Sansa stood, and pointed to the window. “You must have charcoal for your soul.” 

 

“At least I have a soul, little bird.” Sandor bit the inside of his cheek to try to keep from smiling.

 

“You did  not just use my hair color against me.” Sansa gaped at him. 

 

“Not at all, little bird.” The inside of his cheek must have been bleeding by now. 

 

She made her way over to the arch that separated the kitchen from the living room, and gave him a stern a look, “You just called me soulless. You said I have no soul. I can  not believe you right now.”

 

“I haven’t a clue what you are talking Sansa Stark.” 

 

“Sandor Clegane, you are a brute.” She grabbed a rag from the counter, and smacked him with all the force she could muster. 

 

“Did you just try to hit me?” Sandor couldn’t stop himself from smirking. 

 

“Not at all, little bird.” Sansa tried to mock his tone, but failed miserably. 

 

“I’ll sick my mutts on you, woman.” Sandor stood, and stepped over to her, until she had to look upward to maintain eye contact. 

 

“I’d like to see you try, Clegane.” Sansa bit her lip shyly. 

 

“Bandit, Stranger, attack!” Sandor commanded.

 

Bandit looked up lazily from the corner he slept in. He pushed himself upward, and trotted up to Sansa and snuggled by her legs. Stranger, the biggest dog, sat on his haunches by the archway. His tail creating a constant rhythm against floor.

 

“Terrifying, absolutely terrifying.” Sansa sat down on the kitchen floor, and started to scratch Bandit’s ears. Soon the rest of the herd crowded into the kitchen, all begging for attention. 

 

Sansa’s voice turned high-pitched, “Yes, you all get kisses. So many kisses for all of you. All get scratches.” 

 

Sandor sat back down at the table, but couldn’t focus back into the paper, “For the love of the seven, Sansa would you stop that voice.” 

 

“Does Sandor need a nap?” She raised her voice even higher, “Does Sandor want kisses, and scratches behind the ears?” 

 

“No, Sandor wants you to shut up, Sansa.” 

 

“Sandor is just a grumpy wumpy old man.” Sansa cooed to Bandit and Stranger.

 

“Sansa. Stop it.” 

 

“Oh, Mr. Grumpy Wumpy, you just need some puppy kisses.” She picked up an eager Bandit, and set him in Sandor’s lap. “There, now snuggle.” 

 

Sandor immediately dropped the dog on the floor. “No. Now go read something, or watch the TV. Just leave me alone.” 

 

She raised her hands in a defeated motion, “All right.” 

 

The world was quiet for a time, until Sandor heard a familiar voice from the television. 

 

“... with the sudden death of Eddard Stark…” 

 

“No!” Sandor bolted into the living room to see a horrified Sansa sitting on the couch. “Sansa,” 

 

“What… What did I just hear?” Sansa’s whole face had become devoid of emotion. 

 

The anchor continued with the story, “Senator Stark’s death came as a great shock, but we all originally thought it might have been an accident. Now experts are saying it was an intentional attack. We can’t say we’re too surprised because not only did the ones in the house die as well, but Arya Stark and Sansa Stark are missing as well. Bran and Rickon Stark have been missing the longest out of all the Starks…” 

 

Sandor took a step closer to the couch, but Sansa jumped up, “Don’t touch me.”

 

Tears flooded her eyes and ran down her cheeks. Sandor looked anywhere possible before he looked at her eyes, “Sansa,”

 

“Did you know?” She choked out. 

 

“Little Bird,” 

 

“No. You need to tell me.” 

  
“Yes. Yes, I knew.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> it was adorable but then a bomb dropped . 
> 
>  
> 
> is there anything you guys want to see happen in this story specifically? I am coming up with roadblocks, so i am willing to take up to 4 ideas and incorporate them into this story. you can comment them or message me on my tumblr [ bornonthewrongside ]


	8. Does the Dog Have a New Master?

Sandor had been expecting loud uncontrollable sobs, screaming, yelling, things flying through the air, or even slaps. He had seen none of that. After he told her that he had known, Sansa sat down in the rocking chair by the window, and didn’t say a word.

He had been prepared to hand her tissue after tissue. He had been prepared to try to calm her. He was not prepared for complete and utter silence. It had been six hours since she found out, and still she sat, silently rocking back and forth staring out into the dark woods.

“Sansa…” Sandor awkwardly stood off from the rocking chair, “Sansa.”

She looked over at him, and her eyes were dry, but they were clouded. She blinked, and gave a weak smile.

“Do you want to eat something?” Sandor wrung his hands together. _What am I supposed to do?_

She stared at him with vacant eyes.

“Do you want to lay down? Drink something? Water? Milk? Vodka? Scotch?”

“Wh-” She closed her eyes and took a deep breath, “When did he die?”

“I think you should get some rest.”

“When did you know?” Sansa looked up at him, her knuckles were white as she was holding onto the armrests of her chair.

“Sansa-” Sandor was going to evade the question once more, but he couldn’t lie to her. _Her eyes give away everything._ “The accident- he died about two months ago. I knew the first night you came here.”

“My mother and brother as well? They died with him?” She choked on her last words.

“Yes.” He took a tentative step towards her, “Do you want to lay down?”

Her eyes started to flood once more, “Please, please don’t touch me. I - my family is dead. You knew. You let me laugh, smile, joke, when you knew my family was dead. My family is dead.”

Sansa attempted to stand, but her legs were still weak and she crashed to the floor. Sandor rushed to help her, but she slapped away his hands. She compressed herself on the floor, and let out the pain she held at bay for the past six hours.

Sandor stood over the little bird whose wings had just been clipped. _I guess it had to happen eventually_. Doing the only thing he thought was logical, he grabbed a box of tissues from the coffee table, and set them on the floor next to her head. He then walked into the kitchen and stayed there until he heard her sobs die off to be replaced my soft snores.

Ever so slightly, he lifted her into his arms. Careful not to move her too much, he walked to her bedroom, and set her softly on the bed. Taking the quilt that sat on the end of the bed, he draped it over her shivering frame.

The next weeks were trying ones for both Sandor and Sansa. Before, Sandor would have been thankful for her quietness, but now that he had grown used to her early morning songs and idle chatter. She stayed in her bedroom, even though he left water and food outside her door for her, she ignored it. She stopped eating for two weeks.

Sandor had tried to return to his old routine, but everything felt out of place. Everything but one, the fucking cunt sitting in his storm cellar. Sandor was unashamed to admit he took out his pent up anger on Baelish.

“What do the Lannisters want with the Starks?” Sandor asked quietly as he held a small knife against Petyr’s throat.

“Does the dog have a new master?” Petyr asked with his rank breath dripping over Sandor.

The knife pressed a little harder, “What did the Starks know?”

Petyr swallowed deeply, “All the Starks had honor shoved up so far in their asses they could gag on it. Ned found out what the Lannisters have been doing; how they developed their fortune.”

Sandor removed the knife from his neck, “So they killed Eddard Stark and his family because he was going to expose them?”

Baelish opened his mouth to answer, but instead spit in Sandor’s face.

Slowly, Sandor stood up, and wiped the slime from his face. WIth a murderous glare Sandor quickly swung fist at Petyr’s face. He then brought his mouth close to Petyr’s ear, “Do that again, and I’ll castrate you, just as I did Joffrey.”

While Sandor was locking up the cellar, he glanced up at the house, and saw Sansa looking intently at him. When she saw his gaze, she quickly closed the drapes.

When he made it inside, he saw Sansa sitting on the couch. She glanced up at him, and looked back at the wall. _Improvement_ , he thought, _at least_ _she doesn’t dart back into her room anymore._

“What do you in the cellar?” Sansa refused to maintain eye contact, but still looked in his general direction.

“I- uh- um- I do work. I have to do something, otherwise I would lose my mind here.” He licked his chapped lips.

Sansa didn’t say anything for a short while, until she stood up and walked over to him, “I have to apologize.”

“For what?” Sandor’s eyebrows folded down in curiousity.

“I unjustly blamed you, for something that wasn’t your fault. My family died in an accident. It couldn’t have been your fault. I was looking for someone to blame.”

“You have nothing to be apologizing about, little bird. I withheld information that you deserved to know. I should be apologizing.”

**  
“All right then, we’re even. Now explain to me this: why am I still here?”**

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> all right, more plot is moving along now!  
> it is taking forever for them to fall in love, but it will be worth it I promise. 
> 
> i've had some people message me that they don't like their relationship so far, but you can't expect them to be in love already. i mean come on. 
> 
> of course let me know what you think!


	9. A Little Bird So Broken

Sandor awkwardly bit at his severely chapped lips. He preferred her complete silence to her actually asking about things he couldn’t tell her. Wringing his hands together, Sandor opened his mouth to say something, but quickly shut it again.

 

“Why can’t you tell me?” Sansa looked at him with worry sprouting throughout her features.

 

“It’s a twisted story; even I don’t know all of it. Elder Brother would have my head if I told you too much. If I told you too much, you would run.” Sandor looked at her, straight into her eyes. Her little sprouts of worry blossomed in seconds.

 

“But you said you didn’t want to be here either? Why am I forced to be here? I didn’t do anything wrong.” Sansa mirrored Sandor’s movements, and began wringing her hands together.

 

“I don’t know all of it. I don’t want to know all of it.” Sandor breathed in deeply, _what the fuck am I supposed to say to her?_

 

“It has to do with the Lannisters doesn’t it?” Sansa’s hands were becoming raw from her pulling on them. Without thought Sandor placed his hands on hers, just to make her stop. Sansa jumped at the sudden contact, and he pulled his hands back.

 

“What do you know about the Lannisters?”

 

Sansa bit at her lower lip, and stared at the empty wall behind Sandor. “I used to play around my house, late at night. Way past my bed time. My sister forced me half the time, but I wanted to. Soon, it became ritual for us to get up in the middle of the night, and just talk with each other. We sat in my father’s study, and just talked,” Sansa breathed unsteadily. “About a month before I left for college, we were in his study. We heard him walking down the hall, so we hid. We were giggling about it at the time. We didn’t want him to find out, it was ours. My sister and I never really got along, except for the few moments in the middle of the night.”

 

Sandor continued to stare at her as she talked, never interrupting. “Anyway, my father was speaking on the phone, in a very heated way. He was cursing, and he hated cursing. My father kept mentioning what would happen to our family if the _Lannisters_ found out. He said it with such scorn. He hated them, even though we practically grew up with them. _The Lannisters will be the downfall of my family._ That's what he said.”

 

Sandor stood up, started pacing, and raked his hands over his face. “Yes, it has to do with the Lannisters. They want your family.”

 

“My family? What did my family do?” Sansa voice rose three octaves.

 

“Your family has a high sense of honor. Honor is a dwindling and dying substance, Sansa. The Lannisters have none of it, their blood is purely hate and greed. They will do nothing to stop their empire from falling. Including murdering an innocent family.”

 

Sansa stood, tears already spilling in heavy droplets from her heavy eyelids, “My family is ripped apart for _money_? My family is dead because we have morals. My father is dead. My mother is dead. Arya is dead.”

 

Air stopped going into Sansa’s lungs, she stood there, gasping for air, and choking on her sobs. Sandor had never seen a little bird so broken before. Without words, he walked over to the sobbing bird, and gathered her in his arms. Sansa’s hands shook violently as she gripped at his jacket; her knuckles soon turned white.

 

“They’re dead. They’re gone. I won’t, I can’t, oh gods.” She burrowed her face deep into the crook of his neck. Sansa didn’t realize that he lifted her up, and sat them both on the couch.

 

“Hush, Little Bird,” Sandor stroked his calloused fingers through her bright hair. “It hurts now, but the pain will dull eventually.”

 

Sansa lifted her head, “What if it doesn’t? What if I’m stuck here forever, a constant reminder that my family is dead because of fucking honor?”

 

“You won’t be stuck here forever, little bird.” Sandor looked into her bloodshot, swollen eyes, and felt a tightening in his stomach.

 

“I just want to see them, one last time.”

 

“Little bird,” Sandor grazed a thumb across her soft cheek, “Perhaps you should get some sleep.”

 

“Please, stay with me just a little longer.” She wiped her nose with her sleeve, “I just need to have this moment, this moment of unbelievable weakness. Please, just stay with me.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> it's startinggg.


	10. A Gesture Learned

Sansa’s eye sprung open at the distant sound of a choked scream. She had fallen asleep on the old couch in the living room, and the entire room was dark. The heavy curtains had been pulled shut, and blocked out any light that could be seen.

With cautious movements, Sansa sat up, and wrapped the quilt around her shoulders. She looked to see if Sandor had gotten up, but the house was silent. Convincing herself she had tricked herself into hearing it, Sansa laid back down, hoping to fall back asleep. But as soon as her eyes shut, the noise sounded again. It had come from outside.

As quietly as she could Sansa hastened to the window, but she ran into the coffee table, that she swore had never been there before. A string of curses came out from under breath, and the clicking nails of the dogs started to trail from out of Sandor’s bedroom.

When she made it to the window, she saw the trees swaying gently in the breeze, and the nocturnal life racing around. Nothing that looked as if it could make a scream.

“Sansa?” An extremely groggy voice sounded from behind her.

Sansa turned as he flicked on the hallway light. She cringed at the new brightness, but blinked until her eyes adjusted. Sandor stood there in just a pair worn out sweatpants and wool socks. His chest glistened with sweat, but that didn’t make sense because his voice and face said that he had just woken up.

“Sandor?” Sansa asked shyly, pulling the quilt tighter around her body. It had only been a week since she had completely let herself go in his arms, and she had been embarrassed ever since.

“What are you doing awake so early?” Sandor raked a hand over his face; a gesture he did whenever he was at  loss of words, or just frustrated.

“Early?”

“It’s three, Sansa, go back to sleep.” Sandor made his way into the kitchen, and started filling the coffee maker.

“I heard something. Outside.” Sansa said quickly.

“That would be the wind, little bird. Now go back to sleep.” Sandor continued to sound disinterested.

Sansa started to retort, but bit her tongue. She watched Sandor through the archway that connected the living room to the kitchen. His torso was far more defined than she ever would have imagined; his skin was stretched taut over his strong muscles.

Afraid that he notice her obvious staring, Sansa quickly looked back outside. She danced her fingers across the freezing glass. When she was finally ready to go back to bed, she heard the noise again. Only this time it was much louder. It sounded like an injured animal. As she was turning to see if Sandor had heard it, a flood light turned on, and a man covered in blood and mud stood next to an open storm cellar.

A scream bubbled in Sansa’s throat when Sandor slipped his hand over her mouth. “Little Bird, don’t scream. Go into my bedroom, lock the door. Do not open it until I come back. Nod if you understand me.”

Sansa nodded her head feverishly. Sandor walked her to his bedroom, and gave her a reassuring nod before he guided Bandit into the room, and closed the door firmly. Sansa quickly locked it, and sat down on the bed.

Bandit jumped up, and immediately snuggled into her lap. Sansa absent-mindedly started scratching his ears and she tried to control her breathing.

***

Sandor cursed under his breath as he threw on his coat and boots. _Did I lock the cellar door? Did I fucking remember?_ Sandor was racking his brain completely; he was only in the cellar for five minutes yesterday.

When he opened the door, Baelish stood on the porch. Stood was not the best word to describe him, most of weight was on the guardrail. His eyes were sunken in and looked black.

“Baelish, what are you doing?” Sandor said quietly, barely containing the hatred and rage.

“She’s in there. Sansa’s in this house. You lying bastard.” Petyr stood up a little straighter. He sucked in a deep breath and in his loudest voice he started screaming her name, “Sansa Stark! You little bitch, I know you’re in there! Sansa Stark!”

Sandor took two steps towards Baelish, and Baelish fell backwards down the stone steps. His breath started to come out in wheezes. His already malnourished frame was furthered dwarfed by his now too large clothes.

Sandor picked Baelish up by the shoulders, and held him at eye level, “Give me one reason not to kill you.”

Manic laughter erupted from Baelish, “I can’t. So why don’t you? Why don’t you kill me?”

Sandor dragged the poor shit of a man towards the storm cellar, and tied both of the man’s legs to the pole that was one the far side of the cellar. A gag went into his mouth, as well.

Sandor towered over the rotting man, and with tight lips he warned Baelish, “If you ever try this shit again, I will make you wish the Lannisters were the ones killing you.”

Sandor made his way around the large yard, covering any of the blood that Baelish had left behind. Two dogs followed in earnest, snuffling at every branch and rock they came across. When Sandor was convinced that everything was okay, he made his way back into the house. Back to Sansa.

The dogs raced around him as he kicked his boots off. He stripped off his jacket, and realized he still wasn’t wearing a shirt. He had stripped it early in the night, when it was obvious he would not be getting any sleep that night.

With long and hurried strides he made it to his bedroom, the only bedroom with windows in the house. He knocked on the door softly, “Sansa, Little Bird, it’s me.”

The door yanked opened, and Sansa hurtled herself into his arms. The second time this week.

“Little bird, are you alright?”

“Oh gods, Sandor, oh gods.” She was clinging her arms around his neck, and her breathing was fast and deep. “I’m fine. Who was that man? Oh gods, is he with the Lannisters? It looked like… no. Nevermind. Are you okay?”

Sandor enjoyed the touch of her hands on his bare skin, but he stepped away from her and put on a neutral face, “I’m fine. It’s alright, everything is fine.”

“But who was that?” Sansa’s hand intertwined with each other, tugging at each of her fingers individually; a gesture that she did whenever she wanted to say more, but dared not to.

“Try not to worry about it Sansa, it’s taken care of.” Sandor placed a hand on her shoulder, and gave a reassuring squeeze.

Sansa gave a wry smile, “Okay. I believe you.”

“Do you want to try to going back to bed?” Sandor looked at her heavy eyes, and shaking hands.

“No, I’m going to…” Sansa closed her eyes and swallowed deeply, “I want some tea.”

“I’ll make it.” Sandor stepped aside to let Sansa pass.

“No arguments from me.” Sansa whispered as she carried the heavy quilt across the wooden floor.

“Sansa, you should really go back to bed.” Sandor said from behind her.

“Oh look, the sun’s coming up.” Sansa pointed at the horizon of pinks, purples, and blues. “Sit with me. I haven’t actually watched one in forever.”

“Then will you try to fall back asleep Little bird?”

Sansa sat on the couch, and rubbed the seat next to hear, “Chirp, chirp”

“Just this once.” Sandor sat down, and immediately Sansa curled into his lap.

“You know they say watching the sunrise is one of the most calming things in the world.”

“Who is they?” Sandor asked grumpily, he didn’t know where to put his hands.

“I don’t know. But I want to know if it’s true.” Sansa sounded groggy.

“I guess we’ll see.” Sandor whispered.

When Sansa didn’t answer, he looked at her, and noticed she slipped into a quiet slumber.

“There’s a good little bird.” Sandor took the chance to run his fingers through her soft hair.

**  
** _If she knew what happened today, she would never come near me again._

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> so their relationship is growing! yay. 
> 
> let me know what you lovelies think! let me know what you are hoping to possibly see in this story! 
> 
> i love hearing all feedback!


	11. How Beautiful Her Smile Is

The snow that had been relentlessly falling for months had begun to melt, revealing the dead yellowed grass beneath. The smell of new blossoming plants began to surround the old house, and the noises of animals coming out of hibernation created a new symphony in the woods. Buds of new leaves lined the skinny branches of the towering oaks, and petals of the wildflowers painted a new scenery that Sandor and Sansa hadn’t been used to.

Sandor watched Sansa every moment he could, and he noticed how small she was becoming; she stopped talking as much, and she stopped eating almost entirely. He noticed she spent most of her time sitting in that damned rocking chair, looking at the window, like she was on watch in case anyone came back. He had hoped he could give clear of mind without revealing he kept the man who attempted to kill her in the storm cellar, barely alive. But he couldn’t, part of him knew that.

Elder Brother was expected to come in an hour for his weekly visit to bring supplies and what not, since Sandor and Sansa were forbidden to leave the property. Sandor hated being reliant on the old man, but he also owed the old man his life. If Elder Brother hadn’t helped him escape from the Lannisters, he would have been worse off than Joffrey.

“Sansa, do you want to something to eat?” Sandor asked her from his perch in the archway. He had spent most time there, making sure she was alright.

No, thank you. I’m fine.” Sansa gave him a small smile, and returned to looking outside.

“Do you see the dogs out there?” Though he wasn’t one for conversation, he missed seeing her smile when she mocked him, or hearing her giggle while she played with the dogs.

“Yes. They’re playing with something.” She said almost disinterestedly.

Sandor walked over to the window, and saw that they were playing with a dead rabbit, “They’ve been hunting, little bird.”

Sansa didn’t say anything. The repetitive creaking of the rocking chair was the only thing he heard. With a sad glance in her direction, he walked back to the kitchen and started lunch for when Elder Brother came.

Almost on the strike of the clock, Elder Brother knocked at the front door. Sandor wiped off his hands, and let the old man inside.

“Ah, Sandor, how are you doing today?” Elder Brother embraced Sandor in a fatherly hug.

“I’m fine, but there are things I need to discuss with you.” Sandor looked over at the huddled form that was Sansa.

Elder Brother gave Sandor a look that made him want to squirm, “Alright, my boy. We’ll talk. But first I’m going to go say hello to my favorite lady.”

Elder Brother made his way over to Sansa, and wrapped her in his arms. “Ah! My girl, you are skin and bones. Why haven’t you been eating?”

Sansa’s hollowed eyes looked at Elder brother, and a small smile formed, “I haven’t been hungry lately. It’s alright, I don’t do much.”

“Nonsense, the sun’s out, and the snow is melting. We need to get some food in you. Sandor, I’ve trusted you’ve made lunch?”

“Yes, it’s waiting on the table.” Sandor motioned  to the kitchen.

“Go on, Sansa, sit. I’m not asking for much, just a couple bites.” Elder brother patted her back, and gave her a sincere smile. When she sat down, Elder Brother pulled on Sandor’s arm, “There is much we need to discuss.”

The lunch went by quickly, Sansa had only a few bites before she excused herself to her bedroom.

“Elder, what’s wrong? I can’t figure it out, she’s not talking. She’s not eating. I’m trying.” Sandor whispered as he wrapped the leftovers.

“You said she saw Petyr? Outside?” Elder Brother still sat at the table, drinking his tea.

“She doesn’t know it was him. She spends her time looking out the window. Waiting for the man she saw to come back.”

“She’s paranoid. She’s depressed. She’s also white as a sheet,” Elder Brother paused as he coughed into a napkin.

“What do I do?” Sandor asked with a pleading look filling his features, “How do I help her? How do I let her know I am here for her?”

Elder Brother’s face softened, “My Sandor, have you begun to feel for Sansa Stark?”

“It’s not like that. I had to tell her family was dead, I had to save her from being brutally raped and murdered. I just don’t want her to keep associating me with everything that has happened to her.”

“Sandor, it is alright to have feelings for another. You are human.” Elder Brother reached out his hand, and grasped Sandor’s arm with bony fingers. “As much as you deny it, you are _a good man_.”

“Please, Elder Brother, stop. I am going to the seven hells just as Baelish is, just as the Lannisters are. I don’t need to be reassured that I am good man. I have no needs for your gods, or prayers. I just want Sansa to have some happiness. We don’t what’s going to happen to her. She can never go back to her old life. She may not even be Sansa Stark anymore.”

“We don’t know, that is true. Sandor, I am going to get you out of here. I promised you, over a year ago, but I did promise. Now there is something I must tell you. Arya Stark is not dead.”

Sandor stared at Elder Brother with a dumbfounded look on his face, “Arya Stark? The Little Bird’s little sister?”

Elder Brother bit at his thin lip, “Yes, but you cannot say anything to Sansa, yet. I want to make sure my sources are correct. She’s been spotted in the North, and in the East. There’s more. Not so pleasant news, I’m afraid.”

“News involving the Lannisters?” Sandor sat forward.

“Yes. Since they found out Arya is alive, they believe Sansa is as well. Joffrey has started a search for her. Almost all of his men on the look out for her.”

Sandor raked his hand over his face. “Did they know she was with Baelish?”

“If they don’t know already, they will know soon.” Elder Brother’s eyes looked very sad.

“We’ll figure it out. Thank you for telling me.” Sandor stood from the table.

“I must be getting back to the church.” Elder Brother walked to the door, and looked back to Sandor, “Take her outside. While you still can, if you’re there with her, she should be fine.”

***

Days had passed since Elder Brother had been by, and Sandor tried harder and harder everyday to help Sansa. Though she began to eat breakfast, she still refused to stop sitting at the window when she wasn’t sleeping. Her hair had become greasy as it was tied up in a knot on the top of her head. She looked famished in the shirt she had taken from Sandor some weeks ago.

It was the third day in row when she refused to eat lunch when he couldn’t stand it anymore. In moments he was in her bedroom, snatching up the first pair of shoes he saw, and the first jacket that was hanging in the closet. He went back out to the living room.

“Put these on.” He tossed them onto her lap.

She looked at them with intense confusion on her face. “What are you doing?”

“Sansa, please. I cannot stand here anymore, looking at you slowly wasting away. You are strong, you are not going to stay in this damned chair another minute. We are going to go outside. You are going to breathe in fresh air, and see the sun, feel the sun on your face. Please, just put on the damned shoes, and meet me outside.” Sandor never let his eyes leave hers.

Sansa breathed in, and nodded. “Okay.”

Outside, the sun created a new image that Sansa could have never imagined. The budding leaves on the trees radiated freshness into the air. The grass began to turn a vibrant green that reflected light onto its surroundings. Chirping of nearby birds filled her ears with sweet music. Sansa inhaled deeply and soft sigh escaped her lips.  

Sandor started to walk, but stopped when he looked at Sansa. _This is her first time being outside since I found her_ , he thought. She looked hesitant to step off the porch, so Sandor offered her his hand, “I won’t let anything happen to you little bird.”

Sansa smiled as she gripped her small hand in his, “I believe that.”

As they walked through the worn trails, Sansa’s hand didn’t leave Sandor’s. He hadn’t planned to go very far because of her waning strength, but she didn’t want to stop. Everytime he suggested to go back, she just smiled and shook her head. _How beautiful her smile is._

“It is so lovely! Do you feel the sun?” She turned to face him, and closed her eyes, aiming her face up towards the sun. “I missed the warmth.”

Sandor admired her face as she smiled blindly; though her skin was still pale, she never looked more beautiful when she smiled. _Stop that_ , Sandor thought to himself harshly.

“The flowers are even starting to bloom. How beautiful this place is!” She released his hand and went to smell the flowers. While her back was turned he saw a small blooming pansy, and plucked and put it behind his back just before she turned to him again.

“Thank you, Sandor.” She walked back over to him, and leaned against him. Her strength was obviously drained already.

“Want to go back little bird?” Sandor still held the delicate flower behind his back.

“No, but if we keep going, I’ll collapse from sheer exhaustion.” She held her hand out to him, and when he didn’t go to grab it, she reached for his behind his back. When her hands curled around the flower, she gave a little gasp.

“Oh, Sandor! Was this for me?” Her eyes lit with amazement, the blue of her iris turned into the endless ocean, and the vast sky at the same time.

“I - yes, Little Bird, it was for you.” Sandor awkwardly handed it her, the flower looking dwarfed in his large hands.

  
She picked it from his fingers lightly, and pushed it behind her ear. “I love it, thank you.” She went on her tiptoes, and kissed him lightly on his scarred cheek. She reached for his hand again, and intertwined her fingers with his.


	12. If This Is A Dream, I Pray To Never Be Awakened

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> sorry sorry sorrry  
>  it has taken me forever to update, but this is a really really good chapter.

 

The room around them was dark, except for the little candles strewn across the room. Their glow softened everything in the room, her skin, his hands. The blankets were bundled on the floor, long forgotten. But the pair had no use for them, there was no sleeping in this bed. 

His hands trailed across her soft skin, and she hummed in tune with his fingers. Her lips would flutter against his cheek and he would smile in return. Her skin contrasted his strong calloused fingers. His roughness was balanced by her gentleness. Together, they were an equilibrium. 

Deliberately, he placed his lips on the curve of her neck where could feel pulse quicken. A trio of deep breaths and moans followed as he trailed his tongue up her neck to her ear. In response, she tightened her legs around his naked waist. 

“Sandor,” she whispered, “Oh gods, Sandor.” 

“Sansa,” he smiled into her hair, bringing a hand to caress her cheek. “You are so beautiful.”   

He opened his eyes to see her - but it wasn’t her beautiful self he saw. It was the Sansa he found in the woods. Blood caked across body, hair and face. 

“Sansa?” Sandor jumped back. “Sansa?” Panic gripped at his gut as he tried to grab for her, but he couldn’t reach her. 

“Sansa!” Sweat beaded off his forehead, chest and arms. His breathing turned ragged. He couldn’t seem to get enough oxygen into his lungs. Each breath was labored. With a flop, he laid back down.  What in the seven hells?

“Sandor?” A small voice sounded from the outside of his door, and two light knocks. “Sandor, are you okay?” 

“I’m fine, little bird.” Sandor rolled onto his stomach - trying to ignore the fact that Sansa was still standing outside his door. 

“Are you sure? You called for me,” Sansa’s voice was tired and worried. 

“Just a bad dream, go back to bed Little Bird.” 

He footsteps creaked against the old hardwood floors until the silence enveloped him once again. 

In the dark, Sandor thought back to how Sansa’s body felt under his hands, against his lips. This wasn’t the first time he’s had this dream. Every night, in some way or another, Sansa was in his dreams. But this particular dream terrified him every time. He couldn’t forget how Sansa looked when he first found her. Her entire body was black and blue. Her body shivered against him as she clung desperately to him. Sansa didn’t remember that, and Sandor never reminded her. She clung to him that night- even when he tried to lay her on the bed. She was petrified - anyone could see that. He spent that night with her - she curled into him throughout the night. He would never tell her of course. She would never believe him. 

Her skin is so soft now. I want to feel it everyday. He tried to shake these thoughts out of his mind, but it was never any use. Sansa possessed a beauty that was rare. And as hard as tried to ignore it, it was useless. Her beauty shone through in her smile, her voice, her words. 

He slapped a hand across his face to push away the thoughts. Sansa had a future, if he could get her away from the Lannisters. Which he would. He hadn’t told Sansa yet, but soon. Elder Brother had been planning to bring them West - away from the Lannisters, Starks, all of them. Far away enough so Sansa could go back to school, live her life. And Sandor would probably go back into security. 

Thirst started itching at the back of Sandor’s throat. With a groan and extensive stretching, Sandor padded into the kitchen. In the dim light, he saw Sansa sipping at a steaming mug of tea, looking out the window. 

“What are you doing awake?” Sandor looked at her with squinting eyes. 

“Couldn’t fall back asleep,” She whispered without taking her eyes off the stars. 

He glanced at the glowing clock display on the oven and saw that it was barely three, “You might want to get some sleep, or you’ll pass out at noon, little bird.” 

“The stars. They are so gorgeous.” Sansa ignored him, and smiled at the night sky. “My grandmother used to tell me stories about the stars. Why they’re arranged the way they are, and how they got their names. My father would warn that it was just nonsense, but he still continued to tell me the stories before I went to bed at night. He spoke of fairytales, and knights. He made me believe in happy endings.” 

“No such thing.” Sandor’s automatic response sounded before he could stop himself. 

“I don’t care. I don’t care if they’re none; if everything in the world tells me otherwise. I still believe in them.” She sounded wistful and sad. 

Sandor stepped behind her to look up at the night sky. He never took the time to look at the stars before. Why would he? They’re just dim balls of light. 

“What were you dreaming about?” Sansa looked up at him. 

“Nothing.” He couldn’t tell her. 

 

“Is that why you were calling my name?” Sansa smiled at him, and looked back outside. She gripped the mug tighter. 

“Exactly, Little Bird.” She smiled back at her, “Did you dream as well?” 

“Nothing more than the usual.” 

The usual was her reliving the night in the woods or her finding out her family was dead. 

“Do you want any of the pills Elder Brother brought for you?” He had to stop himself from brushing a hand down her arm. 

“No, that’s just running from the problem. They’ll go away eventually.” She wiped at her tired eyes. 

“You still need to sleep.” 

“You don’t sleep. You’re always up by three. Why don’t you take the pills?” She turned her head  to look him in the eye. 

“Little Bird, I’m only trying to look out for you.” 

She let out a sigh, “I know, I’m sorry.” Without another word, Sans leaned back into him. Surprised, Sandor stiffened his entire body. 

After a few moments, he relaxed and brought his hands to the back of her neck and shoulders. He began to massage the knots away. Soft moans escaped from her lips, and he could see the start of a smile when she turned her head slightly. 

“Feel better?” He brought his down next to her ear, and whispered quietly into it. 

“Not yet, you may need to keep going.” She laughed softly. 

“As my lady commands.” He trailed his hands from her shoulders down her arms. He was genuinely surprised to see how much tension she locked in. “You are so tense.” 

“I guess so,” She put a hand on his. “Thanks, that felt… unbelievable. You have a talent, my friend.” 

He nodded at her, suddenly feeling awkward. He turned away, and started making his way back to his bedroom when Sansa called his name. 

“Yes?” He looked at her from the archway, and she still stood by window. 

“I’ve found myself thinking about something that may be crazy. It is crazy, actually, completely ludicrous. But I need - want - you to know I care about you. I know we meant under pretty miserable circumstances, but I’m glad we did meet.” She set her mug down, and walked a few steps towards Sandor. 

“I care about you, too. Very much in fact, Little Bird. I wish it could have been better, that I could have shown you better-” 

“You shown me the best.” Sansa bit her lip. 

He walked a step closer, and she did the same. Now they were in arm’s reach of each other. “You’re one of the best people I’ve ever met.” 

“Sandor,” Sansa whispered, she bit her lip and gazed up at him. Her eyes were bagged but so awake at the same time. A light dusting of freckles lined her cheeks, they were almost invisible, he hadn’t noticed them before. But then again, he has never been this close to her before. 

“Sansa,” he whispered back to her, his eyes glancing at her lips. 

She took another small step towards him; they were almost touching now. “This is a new feeling for me.” 

He gently laid a hand on her cheek, “This is new for me as well, Little Bird.” 

She rested her cheek against his hand, and smiled sweetly up at him. “I want to kiss you. Now.” 

“Aye, Little Bird, I want to kiss you as well.” 

Slowly, Sansa wrapped her arms around Sandor’s neck, and stood on her tip toes. The linoleum cold against her feet. Sandor put his hands on her waist  and pulled her closer. Her lips hovered above his for just a slight moment. He could smell the lemon from her tea. Her eyes fluttered closed and their lips grazed across each others. 

That was all it took. Together, their lips locked, and opened. Her lemon, and his scotch. Together, they moved. The moment he had been yearning for. The moment she had been anticipating. He took her hands in his, and the spun around the kitchen until they hit the counter. In a fluid movement, he lifted her onto the counter, and she became level with him. 

“Sandor,” She whispered against his lips, and tightened her arms on him once again. 

“Sansa, sweet Sansa.” He tangled his hands in her hair, and she moaned against his lips. 

He broke away, and she looked at him with lust clouding her eyes. 

“Sansa, this is real, right? I’m not dreaming am I?” He brushed a finger across her swollen lips. 

“If this is a dream, I pray to never be awakened.” She whispered, and kissed once more.     



End file.
